Friarswood Post Office eBook

’Well, I’m sure I don’t know when
poor folks is to have a holiday if not on a Sunday,
and the poor boy must be terrible moped with his brother
so ill.’

‘Not doing thine own pleasure on My holy day,’
thought Ellen, but she did not say it, for her mother
could not bear for texts to be quoted at people.
But her heart was very heavy; and when she went up
with some tea to Alfred, she looked from the window
to see whether, as she hoped, Harold might be in Paul’s
hay-loft, preferring going without his tea to being
teased by Betsey. Paul sat in his loft, with
his Bible on his knee, and his head on Caesar’s
neck.

‘Alfred,’ said Ellen, ’do you know
where Harold is? Sure he is not gone to the
merry orchard?’

‘Is not he come home?’ said Alfred.
’Oh, then he is! He is gone to the merry
orchard, breaking Sunday with Dick Royston! And
by-and-by he’ll be ill, and die, and be as miserable
as I am!’ And Alfred cried as Ellen had never
seen him cry.

CHAPTER VI—­THE MERRY ORCHARD

Where was Harold?

Still the evening went on, and he did not come.
Alfred had worn himself out with his fit of crying,
and lay quite still, either asleep, or looking so
like it, that when Betsey had finished her tea, and
again began asking to see him, Ellen could honestly
declare that he was asleep.

Betsey had bidden them good-bye, more than half affronted
at not being able to report to her mother all about
his looks, though she carried with her a basket of
gooseberries and French beans, and Mrs. King walked
all the way down the lane with her, and tried to shew
an interest in all she said, to make up for the disappointment.

Maybe likewise Mrs. King felt it a relief to her uneasiness
to look up and down the road, and along the river,
and into the farm-yard, in the hope that Harold might
be in sight; but nothing was to be seen on the road,
but Master Norland, his wife, and baby, soberly taking
their Sunday walk; nor by the river, except the ducks,
who seemed to be enjoying their evening bath, and
almost asleep on the water; nor in the yard, except
Paul Blackthorn, who had come down from his perch
to drive the horses in from the home-field, and shut
the stable up for the night.

She could not help stopping a moment at the gate,
and calling out to Paul to ask whether he had seen
anything of Harold. He seemed to have a great
mind not to hear, and turned very slowly with his
shoulder towards her, making a sound like ‘Eh?’
as if to ask what she said.